Hallucinations
by TheSunriseSets
Summary: As the rain pours, Spyro find himself at a loss as he desperatly tries to overcome the torrent of emotion, the mindless games of his mind as they mingle with his greatest fear: loosing Cynder. One-Shot


**A/N: **One of many One-Shots I'll probably be writing featuring emotion. This one-shot in particular has a variety of emotions, and also highlights the concept of hallucination (and if you have ever hallucinated you know it's weirder than hell). I played safe with it, keeping it to my default tense (present) but I did write third person so that's cool. I have to say, I despise the abrupt ending. R&R please so I can hear what you think? Thanks! :-) - Sunny

_**Hallucinations**_

**One-Shot**

_No—no—_NO_! _Spyro pleads desperately in his head. He circles the air, fighting against the rain that pounds unceasingly upon him; icy and cold it clings to his wings in glistening shards. He shivers and loses an inch in the sky, the momentum, too, slips as he finds himself drifting in descent. _C'mon, _he begs, beating his wings once and the force drives back in place. His amethyst eyes are wide as he dips his head and franticly scans the ground.

There is no sign of her.

In the distance, he sees the forms of Cyril and Terrodor ascend. _This is not good_, he thinks, leaning inward on an air current. He shivers again, but is able to keep himself stable enough to remain level. The air whips around him as he turns, blasting him in defiance. He feels his eyes tear from the wind, and shakes his head when his vision blurs. He knows Volteer will be joining the others soon, he knows they haven't found her.

Which is why it is imperative that he finds her before . . .

"No," he snaps at himself, beating his wings twice to gain speed. _Not before. There is no 'before,' just find her . . . find her soon . . ._

"Spyro!" It is Volteer's voice.

Spyro pivots in the air, his wings spanning vertical as he halts. "Volteer?" he asks, glancing around him in confusion. The rain is coming down much harder now, and Spyro steals himself the moment to glance at the angry dark veil of clouds above him, and he curses them. The rain thrashes harder, sharp bitter torrents that blind him, and he wonders if the sky somehow heard him. Though, his contemplation is interrupted as a sodden hulking form vaguely appears through the dark sheet.

He is angry when hope swells palpably within his chest. _It is foolish to hope_, he tells himself and flies over to meet who he knows will be Volteer. _The form is much too big to be her. _

"Spyro," Volteer says, his voice husky and exasperated. He is tired as well and probably cold, too. His large yellow wings beat stiffly in the rain, and his eyes blink as he tries to see. "Young dragon, is that you?"

Spyro is slow to reply, his mind is fuzzy. "Yes, i—it's me," he finally says. "Have you found her yet?"

There is no answer, and when he nears, he sees Volteer's blinking eyes finally zero in on him. The elder shakes his head.

Spyro says nothing, and angles inward again. It is much harder to turn, his wings are nearly frozen. He lets himself drift downward a few feet; he can hear Volteer's heavy flutter of wings trailing closely behind him and knows the other elders are probably joining him as well. The sight of Cyril and Terrador in the sky is proof of that—they found nothing at the temple and have come to help him search the air. Unless they came to make sure they don't lose Spyro too . . .

"Stop it!" Spyro nearly shouts, his vision blurring again, except this time it's not from the wind; he makes no effort to rid it. He knows there isn't time. If she's gotten this far, then there's a chance she could have made it out.

Just then, he sees something small and dark, huddled against the ground. He feels something in his stomach knot and the rest of him goes cold and numb.

"_CYNDER!_" he yells desperately, and noses in for a direct drive. He ignores Volteer's shouts behind him and only pushes himself faster; his wings pin directly and he stretches forward letting the freezing air whip around him. He is much better at this than the elders, his size attests that. They won't be able to reach him fast enough with their mass and extreme surface area. He will reach her first.

"Cynder!" he attempts to yell her name again, but the words catch in his throat and the guttural sound that comes out instead is ripped away from him by the wind. He doesn't try this again, his throat is searing with pain.

Spyro hits the ground and the wind is knocked away from him instantly. He regains his feet and stumbles over to her, the tears in his eyes stream freely. His mind is clouded and incoherent; the world around him is silent. He can feel pain in his ribs but ignores it, his heart is in much more pain as it encompasses anything rational his mind produces.

He had landed only a few feet away from her still form but it seems like an eternity before he finally reaches her, everything moves in slow motion because the prime objective his mind screams is _to get there quickly, _and time has a way of directing seconds and seemingly turning them into hours. He runs to her, and watches in horror as the rain pounds in a halo of clear glass around her. She isn't breathing. His heart gallops raucously as he splays over her, sobs racking over his body as he chokes to hold them back.

He doesn't hear it when all three of the elders land and near him; but he notices when one of them swipes him aside, pinning him to the ground. He fights, digging his talons into their scales. He is panicking, his mind screaming at him franticly.

"Spyro!" an exasperated voice exclaims.

There is a new pain welling at his shoulder, and he realizes the stem-bones of his wings are bent awkwardly from the way he is laying. He fights harder against the restraint that holds him back, he is regaining his coherence again, the pain in his wings and shoulder are overwhelming. "Let me go!" he hollers.

"Spyro," the same voice repeats, though only calmer. "Spyro, open your eyes."

His eyes shoot open. He lays still, his breathing loud and heavy. Cyril is the one holding him down; there is a gash in his right foreleg, blood runs densely in the grooves of his blue scales. Spyro blinks; his body is still numb, though he can still feel the chill of the rain as if it runs to his core. He can't see beyond the ice dragon, everything else is still blurry.

"Where is she—where's Cynder?" he asks. He is surprised by how worn out his voice sounds; it cracks in several places.

"You saw Cynder?" another voice says from somewhere Spyro can't see, most likely it's Volteer.

Spyro doesn't answer, the panic is welling again. He attempts to push past Cyril's strong grasp again.

"Stay still," Cyril says calmly, "Now tell us, where did you see her?"

_Are they _blind_? _Spyro thinks angrily. "Let me go and I'll show you!"

The ice dragon complies, and Spyro leaps to his feet. His equilibrium is off but he manages to stumble to where he saw her.

What he sees causes his body to freeze in place, and the world—which had still been moving slowly—regains normality and spins freely once again. It takes him a moment to comprehend the inert form before him.

"It's not her," he says in a sigh, his voice contradicted between relief, and a new sense of horror that already begins envelope him. "It's not her." He isn't surprised he repeats himself, because that is all that's running through his mind: _It's not her. It's not her. It's not her._

What he saw wasn't his good friend; it wasn't the black dragoness he knew and was acquainted with, it was . . . a rock . . .

But how could that be? He was so sure it was her . . . it looked exactly like her. Spyro is silent as he stares at the rock, his eyes wide and unbelieving. He blinks, half expecting the image to change and he would see Cynder's clear sapphire eyes staring back at him . . . perhaps she would laugh and he would realize it was all in his imagination.

"Young dragon," he hears someone—Terroador?—speak. Spyro doesn't answer. He is lost in his mind unable to fathom what reality is—and what isn't.

_If this isn't Cynder . . . then, where is she? _

And yet, even as he stares into the rock, he can't help but let his mind drift; he is seeing her eyes staring back at him, and his heart quickens once again.


End file.
